<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>What the Water Gave Me (let the only sound be the overflow) by theonsfavouritetoy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385150">What the Water Gave Me (let the only sound be the overflow)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy'>theonsfavouritetoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Theon Kink Bingo [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, POV Theon Greyjoy, Theon Kink Bingo, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song, a sad puppy and a smirking menace, kink: tears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:07:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon kink bingo series #3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Theon Kink Bingo [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What the Water Gave Me (let the only sound be the overflow)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Good evening/morning/afternoon!</p><p>Today's kink is 'tears' - alternative title for this ficlet is 'The Return of the Greyjoy' lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On his nameday, Jon cries. He doesn’t when Sansa announces a small feast in his honour, he doesn’t when people come to him throughout the day with small gifts and words of gratefulness and good wishes. He doesn’t during the feast, when Sansa gifts him a new sheath for Longclaw that she embroidered herself, bearing wolves and dragons both. Jon smiles and thanks her, thanks everyone for their kindness. But at night in Theon’s arms, Jon cries. For the name he’d born all his life, for the other name he now knows and doesn’t want, for the lies and the secrets and the truth. </p><p>Theon holds him, just like Jon holds Theon in turn when nightmares bring back memories of times he wishes he could forget. There’s no forgetting, for either of them. They are who they are, who they have been made by fathers and wars and the evil in man itself. Theon holds Jon, guilty and glad at once. Glad, because he can be the stronger one for once. Guilty, because he’s glad. Because he’s enjoying something that causes Jon pain. Because Jon’s tears stir something in Theon, something he believed long forgotten. </p><p>A tear makes its way over Jon’s cheek, running down his chin and over his neck. Theon tilts his head, kissing along the salty path, the flame in his belly flaring and twisting. Jon sighs, turning his head, searching until his mouth finds Theon’s. Jon is different like this, his kisses feel different. Shy, unsure, seeking solace. He lets Theon take the lead, lets Theon bed him into the furs and bend over him, pliant and soft, as if each tear has taken away a little of his strength. </p><p>“Hush, Snow,” Theon murmurs against the soft lips. “You can be anyone you want to be.” </p><p>“I want to be Jon. I wish I had never learned – never found out–” Jon’s voice is trembling; another wave of tears makes Theon’s chest tighten. “I wish none of this would ever have happened. I want it all to go away.” He swallows, his mouth twisting into a pitiful frown. “Please, Theon. Make it go away.”</p><p>“I can’t make it go away.” Theon noses at Jon’s wet cheek, licking along the path of a tear. “But I can make you forget about it for a while.”</p><p>He shifts until he’s hovering over Jon’s outstretched body, moving a hand between his thighs. Jon’s legs open immediately, his eyes sliding shut as Theon finds his soft prick. He strokes him, squeezing, massaging, a confidence to his touch Theon thought had vanished forever. He can feel it now, building inside him until he feels almost like he used to when he’d been young and so full of himself, of his skills with a bow and in bed. </p><p>“Look at yourself, Snow,” Theon purrs as Jon moans under his touches, lifting his hips to meet them. “All pretty blushes and sweet noises, aren’t you? Responding so well to me… do you want me, Snow? Do you want me to fuck you?” </p><p>“Can’t believe you finally got there after all those years.” Jon half-smiles, crying out when Theon firmly rubs his thumb over the slit of Jon’s prick, distributing a drop of wetness over the head. “Wanted you – wanted you to since I first understood – gods – what your stories were about.” </p><p>“Is that so,” Theon mutters. The thought of Jon wanting him for so long, of Jon not making a difference between Theon then and Theon now, is sending a low hum of arousal through him. “You know what they say, Snow. Good things come to those who wait.”</p><p>“I think I’ve waited long – long enough – oh!” </p><p>Jon arches into Theon’s hand, spreading his legs further, and Theon moves his hand from Jon’s prick to his balls. He fondles them briefly, ignoring the sting of envy in his chest. His fingers move lower, dipping between Jon’s cheeks and carefully petting over the soft skin there, applying pressure until Jon groans. </p><p>“You want this, Snow? Want me to fuck you open, take you for myself?” </p><p>Theon’s blood is rushing in his ears like thunder as he hears himself talking like this, like an echo from a different life. He’s hot, the ache in his belly rising in sweet, agonizing waves, with nowhere to go until his whole body seems filled with it. Theon slicks his fingers with oil from their lamp, returning them to Jon’s hole where he moves them in slow circles, just the tip of one finger dipping into Jon, barely more than a taste of what he’ll do. </p><p>“Fuck me, Greyjoy,” Jon pants; there’s something glittering in the corner of his eye and Theon bends to kiss the new tear away as he slides two fingers right into Jon’s body. </p><p>Jon cries out, hoarse and low. His hips move off the bed to meet Theon’s fingers drilling into him and Theon leans over him, almost on top of him. It’s uncomfortable, the way his wrist is twisted like this, but in this position he could almost think – it almost feels like – Theon moans as the heat inside him rises even more, the parts of him that are still here stiff and swollen. He adds a third finger to the two he’s fucking Jon with; Jon sobs, more tears, and Theon catches them all as he grinds down against Jon’s thigh, and every single one tastes like triumph when Jon emits a harsh, bitten-off groan, clenching around Theon’s fingers to the point he thinks they’ll break. Jon’s prick pulses, spilling ropes of white onto his belly. </p><p>Theon fucks him through it, only removing his fingers from Jon when his moans are taking on an almost desperate tone. He’s still tense himself, the arousal gathering close under his skin and sparking wherever his body touches Jon’s. He wouldn’t need much now to tip over the edge himself, but Theon ignores it in favour of settling down beside Jon. The feeling will ebb, but it won’t go away entirely. And when Jon will fuck him in the morning it’ll feel all the better for the wait. Theon strokes Jon’s cheek, gently tilts his head until their lips meet. Jon tastes like salt, and Theon smiles into the kiss. </p><p>“Whatever are you crying for now, Snow?” </p><p>Jon only shakes his head, raising one hand to Theon’s hair and pulling him close again. Theon doesn’t ask further, just continues kissing him, mumbling soothing nonsense as the heat in his body settles to a low, steady warmth. He knows why Jon is crying now. After all, getting fucked by Theon Greyjoy can be a pretty overwhelming thing.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>